As though on purpose, the weather turned warm, calm and bright. To our left Sakhalin showed green, like a wil- derness in this primitive region not yet touched by the penal colony. On the right, in the clear, transparent air the Tatar shore could be dimly seen. Here the strait is more like a sea and the water is not so muddy as it is near Due. Here everything was more spacious and it was easier to breathe.
The lower third of Sakhalin corresponds geographically to France, and if it were not for the freezing currents, it would be a delightful country where others besides Shkan- dybas and Bezbozhnys would live.
The cold currents which wash both sides of Sakhalin flow down from the northern islands, where even at the end of summer there are ice floes. The eastern bank, being more open to the currents and the icy winds, takes the full brunt of the buffeting. Here nature is absolutely grim; the flora is polar. The western bank is more fortunate, for the influence of the cold current is softened by the warm Japanese current known as the Kuro-Sivo. There is no doubt that the farther south you go, the warmer it is, and the southern section of the western coast has comparatively far richer flora. Nevertheless, it is far from being like France or Japan.1
lt is remarkable that while the Sakhalin colonizers have been sowing wheat in the tundra for the past thirty-five years and building fine roads to places where only the low- est species of mollusks can survive, the warmest area of the island, the southern part of the western shore, is com- pletely disregarded. With or without binoculars you can see from the ship the fine timber forests and the sloping shores covered with bright-green grass, probably succulent, but there are no dwellings, and not a living soul in sight. On our second day out the commander called my attention to a small group of huts and sheds and said, "That is Mauka."
In Mauka the sea cabbage, which is eagerly bought by the Chinese, has been harvested for a long time. Since this is a serious business venture and has been profitable for many Russians and non-Russians, the location is very popular on Sakhalin. It is 400 versts south of Due at 47° latitude and enjoys a comparatively good climate. At one time the enterprise was in Japanese hands. In Mitsui's day there were 30 Japanese houses occupied by 40 in- habitants of both sexes. In the spring, another 300 persons arrived from Japan. They worked with the Ainus, who made up the main working population. Today the cabbage business is owned by a Russian trader, Semenov, whose son resides permanently in Mauka. The work is supervised by a Scotsman, Demby, an older man and obviously knowl- edgeable. He has a house in Nagasaki, Japan, and when I made his acquaintance and said I would probably be in Japan in the autumn, he kindly invited me to be his house guest.
Semenov employs Chinese, Koreans and Russians. It was only in 1886 that our settlers began to make a living here. They probably came on their own initiative, because the prison supervisors were more interested in sauerkraut than in sea cabbage. The first attempts were not very suc- cessful. The Russians had little experience from the techni- cal point of view. Now they have become used to the work and although Demby is not as satisfied with them as with the Chinese, it is reasonably certain that in time some hundreds of settlers will be able to earn bread here.
Mauka is in the Korsakov district. At present 38 people live here: 33 male and 5 female. All 33 have homesteads. Three have already achieved peasant status. The women are all convicts and live as cohabitants. There are no children and there is no church. The tedium must be overwhelming in winter when the workers go home. The civil administra- tion consists of one jailer, and there is a military detach- ment composed of a corporal and three soldiers.2
The comparison of Sakhalin to a sturgeon is most apt in the southern part, which resembles a fish tail. The left half of the tail is called Cape Krilon, the right, Cape Aniv- sky, and the semicircular bay between them, Aniva. Krilon, around which the ship makes a sharp turn to the northeast, looks like an attractive town in the sunlight and the soli- tary red lighthouse resembles an aristocratic villa. The large headland juts into the sea, which is green and smooth as a lovely water meadow. The earth is covered with velvety grass, and to someone on a sentimental journey all it seems to lack is a herd of cattle wandering under the shade trees on the edge of the forest. But they say the grasses here are poor and that agriculture is barely possible because Krilon is hidden in salt-laden fog for most of the summer, and the fog is destructive to vegetation.3
We passed Krilon and entered Aniva Bay before noon on September 12. The entire shoreline was visible from one cape to the other, although the diameter of the bay is 80 to 90 versts.4
Practically in the center of the semicircular shore is a small hollow called Lasosey [Salmon] Bay. Here lies the Korsakov Post, the administrative center of the Southern region.
A most pleasant chance meeting awaited our shipmate the happy lady. On the Korsakov waterfront lay the Vladi- vostok, a ship of the Voluntary Fleet, which had just arrived from Kamchatka. The lady's officer husband was on board.
So many cries of joy, so much uncontrollable laughter, such a tremendous fuss!
From the sea the post looks like a charming town, not at all Siberian, possessing a distinctive character of its own which I cannot put into words. It was settled almost forty years ago, when Japanese homes and sheds were scattered here and there along the south shore, and it is quite pos- sible that these Japanese buildings influenced it and gave it some characteristic features.
We are told that Korsakov was founded in 1869, but this is correct only for the penal colony. Actually the first Russian post on Lasoscy Bay dates from 1853-54. It lies on an incline which even today bears the Japanese name Khakhka-Tomari. Only the main street is visible from the sea, and from afar the road and the two rows of houses seem to drop sharply to the shore, but this is only in perspective, for in reality the slope is not very deep. New wooden buildings shine and shimmer in the sun. A plain church, old and therefore of beautiful architecture, gleams whitely. There are tall poles on all the houses, probably for flags, and they give the town an unpleasant aspect, as though it bristled.
As on the northern routes, the ship drops anchor a verst or two from the shore, and the pier is used only by cutters and barges. A cutter came out to our ship. It had officials on board, and immediately there were joyful cries: "Boy, some beer! Boy, a jigger of cognac!" Later a whaleboat came up, rowed by convicts dressed as sailors. At the prow sat the district commander, I. I. Bcly, who, when the whaleboat reached the ladder, gave out the order in naval fashion: "Lift up oars!"
\Vithin a few minutes Mr. Bely and I became ac- quainted. \Ve went ashore together and I dined with him. From our conversation I learned that he had just returned on the Vladivostok from the so-called Tarayka, where con- victs are now building a road. The Tarayka lies on the shore of the Okhotsk Sea.
His quarters are small, but pleasant and luxurious. He loves comfort and a good cuisine, and this is obvious from the nature of the entire region under his supervision. Trav- eling over it later I found not only knives, forks and wine- glasses in the jailers' quarters and at way stations, but there were even clean napkins. I found guards who knew how to make a tasty soup. There are fewer fleas and cockroaches here than in the North. According to Mr. Bely, when he was working at the road-construction site in Tarayka he lived in comfort in a small mansion, had his own chef and read French novels in his free time."
By origin he is a Ukrainian, by education a former law studem. He is young, not over forty, which is about average for a Sakhalin official.